Dome Days
by Oneday-Always
Summary: Just needed a place to keep all my various Jarbie drabbles and oneshots, generally ranging from 400 to 1500 words. Mostly comprised of pieces from my 30 Day Writing Challenge on tumblr (URL: idealisticrealism) but with some other random little pieces from along the way.
1. Beginning (1x01)

**30DWC #1: Beginning**

* * *

><p>Freedom seemed so close.<p>

Ignoring the firetrucks and the men swarming around them in noiseless activity, Barbie stared at the road beyond, his eyes following the dark grey line until it disappeared from sight. Five more seconds and he would have been clear, would have been out on that stretch and this goddamn wall would have been nothing more than a faint line over the road in his rearview mirror.

Instead, that line stood between him and the outside world, trapping him like a rat in a cage.

Earlier, he'd been pissed. Pissed, frustrated, and confused as hell. Now— after what they'd already managed to learn about this 'dome'— he didn't feel much of anything, just a dull sense of resignation imposed over the bone-deep weariness that he had carried every day since his tours.

He didn't bother to listen to the small group that stood a few yards behind him, conferring over a map as they desperately searched for answers; he couldn't bring himself to care.

That was, until the bald councilman spoke up, his grating voice raised with authority as he tried to warn someone away— and Barbie turned, catching sight of her, a slow breath releasing from his chest as everything inside him seemed to still. Her flippant reply to the councilman was lost on him; he'd already turned away, blinking in confusion at the indecipherable reaction she'd just invoked.

Shaking his head slightly, he pushed the feeling aside, only half-noticing the rumble of engines and crunch of car tires on gravel behind him as the others began to depart. Making the vague decision to head for his own car— more to give himself a purpose rather than any actual reason— he turned, chancing a fleeting glance in her direction.

She was already watching him, a strange combination of puzzlement and some other emotion in her expression, one that was quickly replaced by a carefully indifferent curiosity.

"Who the hell are you?"

Feeling like he was surrendering more of himself than just his name, he let out a small breath, his eyes locking with hers.

"Barbie. People just call me Barbie."

* * *

><p><em>Keep an eye out for the rest, which I'll be uploading fairly soon. <em>

_And remember, feedback is always welcome!_


	2. Accusation (2x05)

**30DWC #2: Accusation**

* * *

><p>He was no stranger to blame.<p>

He'd done some terrible things, things that he would never be able to stop punishing himself for, the sense of self-loathing long since ingrained in his bones. Other things, he _hadn't_ done, but people had laid the blame at his doorstep all the same, painting his hands red and then holding them up as evidence of his guilt.

When the townspeople had tried to execute him for the murders of Max and Dodee and the others, Julia had been furious, her anger a radiating heat that threatened to set fire to those who would harm him. She couldn't see their reasoning, their fear— could only see them as half-brained sheep blindly following the whims of a poorly-disguised wolf— but he had understood, merely meeting their prejudice with resigned acceptance.

He knew what people saw when they looked at him. He was a stranger to this town, a man who had killed people for a living, and he was now walking among them in a place where the usual laws that governed society were slowly crumbling into dust. He was a threat, an almost-unacceptable risk, and he couldn't blame the people of the town for being eager to be rid of him.

And why should they feel any different? They didn't know him; hadn't seen past the walls that he wore around himself like armour, hadn't ever glimpsed who he truly was underneath.

But Julia had. Julia knew, because he'd shown her everything, letting her in in a way that he'd never done with anyone, letting her see exactly who he really was.

And yet, when he'd sworn to her that he was actually working _against_ Jim and Rebecca's plan—working to protect the town, protect _her_— she hadn't believed him, had looked at him like he was the villain everyone else had once declared him to be.

Since the dome had come down, he'd been faced with constant suspicion and distrust, had had countless angry words and accusations thrown at him like knives.

But of them all, only hers had made him bleed.


	3. Restless (2x06)

**30DWC #3: Restless**

* * *

><p>She couldn't stand still.<p>

Somewhere behind her, Rebecca was carefully mixing the various chemicals they would need, her calm, methodical focus a complete contrast to the barely-restrained agitation that had Julia pacing back and forth in the musty confines of the tunnel, feeling like a hundred live electrodes were buried beneath her skin.

Before her stood the wall of debris, each glance at the chaotic jumble of wood and stone sparking surges of dread and fury by turns. She wanted to rage at it, destroy it, tear it apart with her bare hands, crush and shatter each jagged piece of rock that dared to keep her from him. Instead, she was powerless, her hands already scraped and bleeding from her futile efforts, her breathing fast from exertion and panic.

A soft snarl of frustration escaped her throat as she once again spun away from the wall, her jerky pacing sending a staccato rhythm echoing through the tunnel. Every minute that passed brought her closer to breaking point, the image of Barbie lying crushed and bleeding beneath the rubble searing itself deeper and deeper into her brain.

Rebecca's plan was their only option, she knew that; but the risk to Barbie was almost more than she could stand, her entire being rebelling against the thought of blowing the rock wall when she couldn't be sure he was clear, couldn't know he would be safe.

Because she _needed_ him to be safe; needed him to be okay. She couldn't lose him again, not when she had only just gotten him back, not when she hadn't even had a chance to explain _why _she'd doubted him, and how much she'd hated herself for letting her own insecurity blind her so completely. She'd been stupid, and scared, and at the first suggestion that he might abandon her she'd run the other way, hiding from the truth that had already been proven over and over again.

He was everything to her— and just as she'd finally managed to acknowledge and accept it, he'd been taken from her once again.

As she slowly sank deeper into her own desperation and despair, the sound of Rebecca's voice was for once a welcome intrusion, pulling her back to the light. When a fluid-filled jar was placed into her grasp, it was with clenched teeth and shaking hands that she fixed it in place, knowing that her actions would either create Barbie's doorway to freedom... or seal his tomb.

The echoes of the explosion still lingered in the tunnel as she ran back to where they had been, scrambling through the scattered debris— hope and adrenaline surging through her body when she saw no sign of Barbie near the remains of the wall— Rebecca's cautioning shouts going unheard as she threw herself forward into the darkness of the tunnels beyond. Ahead of her, the path diverged, but she didn't slow, choosing the left branch by instinct and racing onward, hyper-alert for any hint of Barbie's presence.

She found it just moments later, the subtle glow of a lantern up ahead joining the sharp beam of her flashlight, illuminating the walls as they began to widen into a more open space. When she burst out of the narrow tunnel and into the small cavern, he was the first thing she saw, his familiar form a dark silhouette in the dimly-lit space. The walls echoed her cry when she called his name, and he spun instantly, his stride fast as he moved to meet her halfway, their bodies colliding and immediately clinging tight.

All she could think was that he was okay, the words repeating over and over in her head like a mantra. Pressed against him, she felt the solid strength of his arms around her, felt his breath escape in a relieved rush, his heartbeat pounding in time with hers; and it was only then, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his embrace, that she could finally let go of the emotions that had been steadily consuming her, could be free of the fear and despair that had been spreading through her body like slow-acting poison.

Barbie was okay— and finally, for the first time since the cave-in had separated them, so was she.


	4. Snowflakes (1x02)

_Special thanks to Adi, without whom I would probably never finish any story; and also to Laura and Yasmine, for their continued words of encouragement and appreciation. You guys are great. _

**30DWC #4: Snowflakes**

* * *

><p>She'd always seen things more clearly through a camera lens.<p>

Circling the remains of Duke's house, she captured the destruction as best she could, taking comfort in the relative normalcy of the moment. Even if the dome had never existed, she would have still been here, documenting every detail of the fire that would have made for front-page news on a normal day here in town.

Now, of course, her efforts were likely pointless; the loss of Duke's home would almost certainly become just another in a series of recent events that the people of Chester's Mill would rather forget, not have forever immortalised in photograph form.

Turning, she aimed the camera back towards the front of the house— and paused, her finger stilling on the button as she caught sight of Barbie through the lens.

Hose in hand, he stood close to the smouldering ruins, fine bits of ash swirling around him like eerie snowflakes. Grim-faced and seemingly deep in thought, there was something about him that drew her; something beyond simple physical attraction— which she was adult enough to acknowledge existed, and from what she could tell, on his part as well as hers.

It was a response that she refused to feel any guilt over; after all, she was _married_, not dead, and the latter is what she would have to be in order not to notice a man like Barbie.

No, she stood firmly by the belief that appreciating a handsome face and an excellently proportioned body was no crime, particularly when one's husband clearly had misdeeds of his own that would require some serious explaining and/or grovelling whenever they managed to rid themselves of this dome and find each other again.

There was, however, a deeper, less easily-explained aspect to her sense of connection to Barbie, one that _did_ give her pause. When they'd met the day before, she'd felt it instantly, a strange feeling she couldn't put her finger on. She'd found that she instinctively trusted him, felt an indefinable link between them, and so when he'd needed somewhere to stay she had simply gone with her gut— as she so often did— and had taken him in.

The pragmatist within her told her she was playing with fire; but then, she'd never been afraid of a little heat, and his was a puzzle too intriguing to resist.

Pressing down on the button, she snapped a few quick photos of him, then lowered her camera and strolled over to where he stood, half-wondering whether she might be enjoying this whole situation a little more than she should.

Their brief exchange about their respective firefighting efforts was friendly, almost playful— until she moved to the subject of his dog tags, and felt the subtle shift in his tone, his smile taking on a slightly forced quality that immediately piqued her interest.

When he walked away, she stood and watched him go, her eyes narrowing slightly in speculation. Connection or not, he was more than he seemed, his story— the reason for his presence here, his intentions regarding the town, his true character— still remaining a complete mystery.

A mystery that she was determined to solve.


	5. Haze (2x05)

**30DWC #5: Haze**

* * *

><p>When he woke, he was in Fallujah.<p>

The familiar ringing was loud in his ears, the acrid taste of smoke and burning plastic sharp on his tongue. Clenching his jaw, he forced his aching limbs to move, his scraped hands already automatically reaching for his rifle before his tangled thoughts finally caught up, his eyes blinking against the stinging smoke.

Images flashed through his mind— Julia, the food-drive, the firehouse, the empty boxes, _Julia—_ the memories of his past fading swiftly as reality reasserted itself, fear for Julia's safety cutting through his mental haze like a bolt of lightning.

Flames flickered in front of his vision, and beyond them, two hunched figures loomed— not fellow soldiers or enemy combatants, like he might have thought a moment ago, but Carolyn and another food-drive volunteer, violent coughs wracking their bodies as they struggled to stand.

Croaking out her name, Barbie forced himself to his feet and stumbled to Carolyn's side, his balance steadying as he quickly hooked one of the injured woman's arms over his shoulders, he and Carolyn supporting her together as they staggered towards the doorway.

His eyes swept the area the moment they stepped outside, his rapid search finding no sign of Julia. He was already hastily handing the injured volunteer over to another resident when he threw the question at Carolyn, her answer only confirming what he already knew.

Julia was still inside.

He didn't hesitate, didn't think; he just turned and plunged back into the fire, fear and adrenaline pounding through his veins. He'd run into burning buildings before, had faced down much larger infernos than this— and each time he had done it without a shred of fear, because he'd never had anything to lose.

This time, he could barely breathe past the terror that gripped him, his entire body fraught with dread.

This time, he could lose everything.

Half-crouching, he moved through the burning debris to where he had last seen her, squinting through the haze of smoke and ash. The fear and desperation bled into his voice as he called her name, relief and determination crashing through him like a tidal wave just seconds later as he heard her strained reply, his breath releasing in a shaky rush as he turned in the direction of her voice.

Within seconds, he had found her, dropping to his knees to crawl among the flaming wooden shelves that had trapped her, hurriedly helping to clear the rubble that had her pinned. Using his back as a support for the wooden beams above them— the weakened timber seeming ready to collapse on top of them at any moment— he guided her out past him, a pained shout escaping his lips as the shelving unit dropped lower, a burning beam slamming into his shoulder.

"Go!" he yelled, trying to send her to safety while he struggled against the weight of the overturned shelving unit— but she ignored him, instead moving closer and adding her strength to his until he was able to push himself free and rise to his feet, the two of them supporting each other as they stumbled clear of the burning wreckage and out into the daylight.

It was only once they were at a safe distance that they relinquished their hold on one another, coughing and gasping as they struggled to clear the bitter smoke from their lungs.

Then, throats raw and bodies bruised, they simply stood together in silence and watched the firehouse burn, listening to the despairing cries from the townspeople as their food stores went up in flames.

He supposed it should bother him too; supposed he should care about the threat of starvation that now loomed over their heads more than ever.

But he didn't.

There was only one thing he cared about, and right now, she was standing beside him— a little bruised and soot-stained and shaken, but alive and safe.

And to him, that was all that would ever matter.


	6. Illusion

_Quick oneshot prompted by Adelina (Newtonks) back when we first heard the Comic Con spoilers of Barbie's fall._

* * *

><p>"Show him to me!"<p>

Her desperate shout cut through the still air, her eyes blurred and feet unsteady as she stumbled blindly towards the alien barrier that had taken Barbie from her.

Taken _everything_ from her.

"You hear me?!" she raged, lashing out with every ounce of power she had left, tiny vibrations running through her fists with every impact upon the dome. Ignoring the bruises forming beneath her skin, she hit harder, her voice rising in fury and grief, the words tearing from her throat like shards of broken glass. "I want to see him, now! Show me!"

The dome made no answer, its solid mass as invisible and impenetrable as ever. Choking back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her, Julia slumped to her knees, her shaking hands pressing weakly against the unrelenting barrier, her head dropping forward in defeat.

Clenching her eyes shut, she felt the hot tears tracking down her cheeks, a silent stream that had flowed steadily since she had been left in the darkness of the cave only hours– or was it years?– before, with nothing left of the man she loved but a length of frayed rope and the echo of the three words she'd never get the chance to return.

"Please," she whispered brokenly, her head still bowed. "Let me see him."

"We can't," spoke a gentle voice beside her, and she started, scrambling sideways in shock as she stared at the form that had appeared beside her.

Head tilted slightly in curiosity, Angie sat crosslegged just a few feet away, watching her with a serene expression as she waited for her to recover.

"Angie?" Julia breathed, then closed her eyes tightly, one hand pressing hard against her temple before she raised her gaze to the figure before her. "No, you're not. So why her? Where's Barbie?"

Dome-Angie gave no reply; she simply looked back at her as if she should already know the answer, her head still cocked in that infuriatingly calm manner. Clenching her jaw, Julia leaned forward, her eyes hard as she glared at the impostor that had once been her friend.

"If you can send Angie, then you can show Barbie to me. I want to see him," she demanded hotly, then faltered, her voice wavering. "I _need_ to see him. I need to tell him something, even if he's just some image you're projecting in my head."

Angie nodded, then looked away, her eyes gazing through the dome and into the distance. For several seconds she was silent, her expression pensive, as if watching some unseen event play out in her mind's eye. Then, finally, she spoke, her words simple.

"We can't."

"_Why_ can't you?" Julia demanded furiously, her tears falling unnoticed as she threw herself to her feet, the dome-Angie standing casually beside her before she'd even fully straightened.

"The people need you as a leader," Angie said calmly. "Help save them and you'll find your own salvation."

"_No_," Julia bit out fiercely, her fists clenching. "I'm not your pet, not some mindless animal that you can command to do things and have me obediently obey. I want _real_ answers, and _I want to see Barbie_."

"Protect the town, Julia, and when the time comes, what you want will be yours."

Frowning at her cryptic words, Julia opened her mouth to give a scathing reply, only to find Angie abruptly gone, her form disappearing in the span of a blink. Spinning, Julia searched for her, but found no one– real or imagined– anywhere to be seen.

In that moment, her anger finally gave way to despair, her last defenses crumbling into dust– and she shuddered, pressing a hand to her burning eyes, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the flood of grief that threatened to overwhelm her.

Barbie was gone, really gone– and even with hundreds of people trapped inside this town with her, she was now completely and utterly alone.

* * *

><p><em>So this came about bc I just had a bit of a headcanon that the dome can only project the image of someone <span>within<span> it (alive or dead). The idea of Julia eventually figuring that out (and subsequently realising Barbie was alive and outside the dome) always intrigued me as a potential direction that the show could have taken._

_Anyway, thanks for reading!_

_-Laura_


	7. Flames (2x05)

**30DWC #6: Flames**

* * *

><p>There was more than one way to burn.<p>

Standing with the smoking shell of the firehouse at her back, Julia faced the crowd, her composure slowly slipping from her grasp as she stared helplessly out at the furious and frightened faces of the townspeople, the heat of their anger rising like flames at her feet, ready to burn her at the stake for what she'd done.

Despite her efforts, her desperate reassurances and calls for order went mostly ignored, accusations and angry words flying at her like arrows, piercing her defences and lodging beneath her skin. When Phil advanced on her with poison in his voice and hatred in his eyes, she could feel the guilt and fear rising in her chest, stealing her breath and choking off her attempts to defend herself. It was only Barbie's presence behind her that kept her together, only the knowledge that he wouldn't let anyone harm her— no matter what his current feelings toward her might be— that prevented the fear from completely taking over, from breaking her down just as Phil had intended.

When the crowd finally began to disperse, breaking off into small, angrily-muttering groups, she clutched at the chance to escape, desperate for a reprieve from the suffocating waves of fury and blame that came at her from all sides. It took everything within her not to run; the last of her control drained by the effort to keep her pace moderate, her posture straight as she rounded the building, finally finding solitude in the deserted space behind the firehouse.

Then, far from the eyes of those whom she had tried so hard— and failed so completely— to protect, she simply gave in; let the walls inside her crumble, the emotions flooding through, the tears falling freely as she faced the truth.

It was her fault. She'd been so set on her mission— so certain that she was leading them all towards a better, safer life under the dome— that she hadn't even seen the mistakes she had been making, hadn't had any idea of the damage she would do. Phil was right; it was her thoughtlessness that had caused the explosion, her failure not only destroying the food that was their last hope, but also directly endangering the lives of everyone in the vicinity.

Because of her, many had been hurt; because of her, some could have even been killed.

The blood she'd seen on Barbie's face haunted her, the thought of losing him again causing a sharp stab of pain somewhere deep in her chest, lodging like a blade in her heart. The ache that she had carried all day- since she had learned just how wrong she had been, and had realised how badly she had treated him- was not far behind, a dull sense of grief and remorse that buried itself in her bones. She wished so desperately that she could hold him, wished she could once again have the comfort and support that he'd so often provided over the last few weeks. She knew that with him standing beside her, she would be able to face all that she had done, to find a way to fix the damage she had caused and help the town move forward once more.

But she couldn't have him. At the first test of her trust, she'd turned her back on him, had treated him like the criminal that she'd always hated the town for believing him to be.

If she'd ever deserved him before, she certainly didn't now.

Wiping at the tears that dampened her cheeks, she struggled to steady her breathing, her heart pounding and hands shaking. She was in over her head— far, far over her head— and she had already cost herself the one person who would have stood by her through all that lay ahead.

And in that moment, for the very first time since the dome had come down, she felt truly and completely alone.

The sound of his voice pierced through her misery like an electric shock, her entire body instantly tense as she turned, dreading what his next words might be. If Phil's revelation about the generators had changed how he viewed her, she didn't know if she could stand to hear it. She could deal with the fury of the entire town, could find a way to survive their hatred.

But not his. She loved him, completely and hopelessly, but she knew she had hurt him, had failed him as well as the town. He had every right to walk away from her, but if he looked at her like the others had- so full of anger and blame- she knew it would destroy her.

Instead, he looked down at her in concern, his voice gentle. "You okay?"

Feeling fresh tears instantly beginning to burn behind her eyes, she gestured helplessly- then simply let the truth spill out, telling him everything, all her guilt and grief and shame about the generators, the explosion... and him.

A moment later she was pulled into his arms, her breath escaping in a relieved rush as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, forcing herself not to cling too tightly as she pressed herself against him.

Stroking her back gently, he held her close, his voice low and sincere as he murmured reassurances in her ear. Sinking into his embrace, she closed her eyes, her pounding heart finally beginning to slow as the physical and emotional strain of the morning slowly melted away under his touch.

He was still on her side— had _always_ been on her side— and now, once again, she would be on his, never letting her fears or insecurities make her doubt him ever again.

As long as they had each other, they could survive this thing, could rise from the ashes and build themselves a future here in Chester's Mill— and no matter what happened, no matter what the dome sent their way, they would stand and face it.

Together.


	8. Formal (2x05)

**30DWC #7: Formal**

_For Adi bc it's her baby and she knows it better than I do._

* * *

><p>Barely three feet of space stood between them, yet he'd never felt farther from her reach.<p>

His response to her offer of the sheriff's position had been completely fair; the harsh truth of his words hitting close to home. And yet it was the things he hadn't said that hung heavy in the silence, his face grim and eyes staring straight ahead as his body settled against the desk, seemingly waiting for her to speak.

He hadn't walked away from her; it was a tiny comfort that she clung to, though the space between them still yawned wide, a sense of distance between them that had nothing to do with the physical. Looking away, she swallowed back the guilt and sadness that had lodged in her throat, her arms instinctively folding over her chest, as if protecting her heart.

Drawing in a slow breath, she looked down at him, her voice quiet, honest, channelling everything she felt into her words.

"I should have trusted you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"That's good to hear," he answered, but his tone was wrong, the easy warmth that normally existed when he spoke to her now sounding tired, as if she'd damaged something within him. Shaking his head slightly, he finally turned to look up at her, the somber, guarded look in his eyes making her hate herself all the more. "This town just has a funny way of turning on people," he murmured, his words neither an accusation nor an apology. "And I'm not ready to jump back into the fray."

Blinking, she dropped her gaze, her chest growing tight; whether he'd intended the potential second meaning behind his words or not, she still felt the sting, the sense of loss sinking deep into her bones.

"I get it," she responded evenly, fighting to keep the waver from her voice. "I'll find someone else."

And maybe she would; maybe somehow she'd manage to find someone capable enough to take on the sheriff role, someone she could trust to watch her back as well as keep the town safe. But they would never be _him_, would never be the one that she wanted by her side.

She needed him, in every sense; not only to help keep the town together, but to keep _her_ together, his love and support the only thing that had kept her going this long.

He was everything, the one thing that truly mattered to her under the dome—and now, through her own stupidity, her insecurity and doubt, she had lost him.

Sighing softly, she turned to lean against the desk beside him, her heart heavy with the grief that she kept carefully hidden within herself. Her hand rested just inches from his on the polished wood of the desktop, her fingers gripping the edge of desk tightly as she fought the need to reach out and touch him.

Before, she'd never truly been aware of just how much he touched her, of the near-constant contact they'd always shared— his hand on the small of her back, or entwined with hers, his shoulder against hers as they stood side by side, his small caresses and kisses— the tiny gestures of silent support and affection that they'd exchanged so naturally and freely over the past weeks.

Now, she felt the absence of that connection like a physical ache, her body and soul slowly turning to ice without the healing warmth of his touch.

"I'm gonna go," he murmured after a moment, then stood, the gap widening between them once more, the knife in her heart digging a little deeper with every inch that separated them. "Lyle's still out there."

Forcing her emotions down, she drew a breath, willing herself to be focused, detached, concentrating on the matter at hand.

"Maybe he's with Sam?"

"Yeah, well we'll find them- we'll put them in a room together and find out what the hell happened all those years ago," Barbie answered, his tone containing the same formality as hers, their interactions more reserved now than they'd been as total strangers.

"We have to," she agreed, clutching at the distraction that the topic provided. "For Melanie's sake."

"Yeah," was all he said in response; his voice quiet, his gaze sober, almost sad. Then, he simply turned and walked away, never seeing her head bow in defeat, the silent tears that slipped down her cheeks.

All alone in the empty office, Julia faced the truth, the pain in her chest spreading outward until she knew nothing else.

She'd broken something between them, had done damage that she didn't know how to fix.

And maybe, she never would.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading :)<em>


	9. Intuition (2x01 deleted scene)

_Inspired by the 2x01 Jarbie deleted scene. (Available on YT)_

* * *

><p>Deep down, she envied them.<p>

They'd been holding hands as they entered; looking up at the cheerful sound of the bell, she'd watched as Barbie held the door for Julia, giving her a small, playful bow before following her in, some murmured comment from the redhead causing the two of them to grin at each other like a pair of giddy middle-schoolers.

Once inside, it was clear that they had little interest in interacting with any of the diner's other occupants, the two of them barely sparing the room more than a fleeting glance, their eyes pausing for only the briefest of moments as they spotted her by the counter. Sending a quick grin and a wave in her direction, they turned and headed directly for the back stairs, disappearing up to the near-empty second level.

Hearing the murmurs of the other diners follow in their wake, Angie easily understood their desire for a little space— and, after what they'd been through over the past few days, they'd more than earned the right to a few uninterrupted moments together.

Especially considering how close they'd come to never getting another moment together ever again.

She knew, probably better than anyone else under the dome, what these two were to each other; after all, she'd been there, had seen what few others had.

She'd been there with Barbie as he'd risked everything to get Julia out of the clinic, had seen him sacrifice himself without a moment's hesitation just to keep her safe.

She'd been there as Julia had promptly done the same, running directly towards danger, her focus solely on getting Barbie out of there alive, no matter the price.

She'd been there, barely an hour later, when Barbie had sacrificed himself yet again, giving them the time they needed to escape with the egg.

But most of all, she'd been there when Big Jim's ultimatum had crackled over the radio, had seen the sheer desolation that had shadowed Julia's eyes, as if her entire world was about to collapse in on itself and she knew she was powerless to stop it.

It was clear that losing him would have destroyed her, torn her apart— like a vital part of her had been ripped away and there could be no surviving without it.

She might be able to recognise it, but no matter how hard she tried, Angie couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to truly _feel_ that kind of love.

Maybe one day she would ask Julia about it, but not today; when she'd followed the pair up the stairs to serve them their coffee, they'd been warm in their greeting, genuine in their gratitude for all that she'd done— but their eyes had hardly been able to stray from one another, the silent communication passing between them making her feel like an intruder into their private world.

Of everyone trapped here in Chester's Mill, they were among the very few she actually liked, but today she hadn't been able to get away from them fast enough. Leaving them to their coffee and their lovey-dovey gazes, she'd retreated downstairs, brushing aside the vaguely unsettled feeling that hovered in her chest as she'd returned to her work.

Glancing up at them now, she saw them link hands across the table, absorbed in each other like they were the only two people in the entire dome. As she watched, their faces broke out in matching grins, their happiness radiating from them like a tangible thing as Barbie lifted Julia's hand to his lips.

Tearing her gaze away, Angie grasped the edge of the booth beside her to steady herself, a sudden heaviness in her gut that she'd never felt before.

No, she couldn't imagine experiencing that kind of love. And suddenly, she couldn't shake the feeling that she never would.

Blinking, she turned her back on the happily reunited couple, forcing a bright smile as she directed her focus at the nearest table, steadfastly ignoring the icy feeling of dread that ran down her spine.

"Coffee?"

* * *

><p><em>RIP Angie— you deserved better.<em>


	10. Mistletoe

Prompted by the following post on tumblr:

**"important otp christmas question:** who has placed mistletoe in every room of the house to get in as many kisses as possible and who is exasperatedly questioning 'this is the 5th timE TODAY WHERE IS ALL THIS MISTLETOE COMING FROM?' before sighing and leaning in"

* * *

><p>She'd just wanted a glass of water.<p>

She was at the sink, hand already outstretched for the faucet, when she heard the sound of a throat being pointedly cleared right behind her, his heat radiating through the space between them.

Setting the glass down, she turned slowly, trying to hide her smile as a small, silly flutter rose in her stomach. Knowing exactly what was coming, she met his steady look with a single arched brow, her voice dry.

"Yes?"

For a moment he simply held her gaze, the look in his eyes somehow both heated and tender, caressing her without touch. Then, his lips quirked almost imperceptibly, his eyes slowly shifting upwards, her own gaze following to fix on the object hanging just a few feet above their heads.

Mistletoe.

"_Barbie,_" she drawled, feigning exasperation as her gaze dropped from the tiny cluster of leaves— which appeared to be taking over their house at an alarming rate— to focus once more on his face, her sigh audible. "This is the _sixth _one _today_."

Which, considering it was barely ten in the morning, was actually somewhat impressive— not that she was enjoying this overzealous take on the tradition, of course. Not in the slightest.

His answering shrug was small, his entire demeanour completely unrepentant— and totally endearing, her eyes narrowing at how easily he pulled her under his spell.

"I like to cover all my bases,' he murmured, a trace of mischief in his tone as his eyes fell once more to hers, his brows raising expectantly. Her attempt at another long-suffering sigh was belied by the grin that broke through at last, her arms curling around his neck as she lifted on her toes— as they'd both always known she would— seeing his lips curve briefly in triumph before she covered them with hers.

Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he pulled her against him, responding just as eagerly as he had the last five times they'd mysteriously ended up under the seemingly ubiquitous green sprigs. Pressing closer, she let her lips part for his, drawing an appreciative rumble from his chest.

When at last she drew back, she lifted her eyes to his, levelling him with a teasing look.

"You know, you really don't _need_ an excuse."

"Mmmm," he acknowledged, closing the gap between them once more to brush his lips over her cheek, her temple, her ear, his breath warm as he nuzzled into her hair. "But I've never made use of this tradition before. I like it."

Her breath hitched as his lips travelled down to her neck, her fingers tightening in his shirt as she fought to keep her voice even.

"Exactly how many are there?"

"I could show them all to you, if you want," he murmured, the words low and deep, sending fresh shivers across her skin. "The one above the bed is _particularly_ interesting."

Swallowing, she tried for coy— and mostly succeeded, her words only a little breathless. "Is that so?"

Lips occupied with tracing her collarbone, he simply hummed his reply. "Mmm-hmm."

Sliding her hands down to press lightly against his chest, she brought her lips close to his ear, breathing her response against his skin. "Then lead the way."

His head lifted, the slow grin spreading across his face mirroring her own. His hold on her waist loosened, his hand coming up to close around hers, his grip warm and gentle as he pulled her from the kitchen and towards the bedroom, pausing beneath each strategically-located sprig to capture her lips with his.

Reflecting on it later, lying entwined with him beneath tangled white sheets, she had to acknowledge that while she'd certainly enjoyed discovering each new cluster of green, he had most definitely been right.

The one above the bed _was_ the most interesting.

And she never did get that glass of water.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading :)<em>


	11. Companion (1x09)

**30DWC #8: Companion**

_Fairly sure there have been a couple of fics of the same scene posted recently, but this was next on my list to post— so oh well, have another one lol. (Originally written and posted to tumblr sometime in August)._

* * *

><p>He was going to lose her.<p>

Standing motionless at the top of the porch steps, Barbie stared silently at the hazy square of light that glowed through the glass panel of the front door, the sense of despair weighing heavy in his gut like an anchor, slowly taking him under.

He couldn't win. Not with Max here, hanging the truth over his head like a guillotine. If he crossed her, she wouldn't hesitate to tell Julia what he'd done; more likely, she'd do it gleefully, as always gaining a sick kind of entertainment from the destruction she left in her wake.

But to give in and obey her would be worse, her twisted whims and demands warping him into something dark and broken until he wouldn't even recognise himself, the lies building between him and Julia until they formed a barrier too strong to break through.

Finding— and silencing— her insurance policy seemed like the only answer, but it was an option that he liked as little as the other two, the thought of taking another life tasting like bile in the back of his mouth. Killing Max and her accomplices would be murder, the excuses of war or self-defence no longer there for him to hide behind. If he did this, he would finally be the murderer he'd always feared he'd become.

Even if it allowed him to stay with Julia, the cost would simply be too high, the knowledge of what he'd done slowly destroying him from within until eventually it would become too much for both of them, tearing them apart.

Which meant only one thing; no matter what he did, Julia was going to be taken from him.

Closing his eyes briefly, Barbie released a slow, uneven breath, then slowly crossed the porch, the ache in his chest growing with every step, an endless pain that he couldn't escape.

Stepping quietly through the door, he locked it behind him, the light that spilled from the kitchen beckoning to him like a beacon.

"Julia?" he called, then cleared his throat, trying to erase the rough, emotion-laced edge from his voice, an obvious tell that she'd notice in a heartbeat.

"In here," she called back, the warmth and welcome in her voice drawing him towards the kitchen, a helpless moth against the brilliance of her flame. Pausing in the doorway, he fixed his eyes on her, memorising every detail as she turned to him, smiling. "I was just pouring some wine— I'll get you a glass. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah," he answered, food the last thing on his mind. "I had something at the diner."

Her reply sounded positive, his mind not even hearing the words as he watched her rise up on her tiptoes to grab a glass from the cupboard, then turn, a smile forming on her face when she noticed his eyes on her. Crossing back over to the counter, she placed his glass beside hers, and was already reaching for the bottle when he moved toward her, unable to keep himself back any longer.

Reaching for her waist, he gently tugged her to him, turning his face to press into the softness of her hair.

For a fraction of a second she was still, clearly surprised by his actions, but she recovered quickly, her arms encircling him in a gentle embrace, her tone soft, warm with understanding.

"Rough day?"

Releasing a breath, he shook his head slightly. "Just glad to be h— glad to be back."

Home. He'd nearly called it home. Which it was; he'd spent barely more than a week here with her and it was already more a home to him than anywhere else had ever been.

And soon, he would lose it all.

For several moments, she simply held him a little tighter, then drew back to press a gentle kiss to his temple before slowly releasing him, her fingers trailing across his arm as she turned to pour his drink. A moment later, she pressed the glass into his hand, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. Picking up her own glass, she slipped her other hand into his, squeezing gently before leading him through to the lounge room. When she nudged him towards the couch, he sank down onto it, watching her as she moved around the room, lighting a few small lamps until the room was bathed in a soft glow. When she returned to the couch, she joined him without hesitation, curling her legs up as she pressed close, leaning into him.

Their closeness pained him even as he craved for more, his body reflexively angling toward hers as he settled an arm over her shoulders. He felt her give a soft sigh, sinking against him with a quiet contentment that tore at his heart. For a minute or two, neither of them spoke, simply sipping their wine and appreciating the quiet moment away from the outside world.

It was a kind of intimacy that he'd never really experienced before, a sense of companionship that was completely unfamiliar to him. He'd never had anyone like her before; his past relationships had been more like business transactions, mostly based on mutual benefit with very little commitment. And for the most part, it had worked just fine for him, because he'd never found anyone who he wanted more with— had never really even understood the point, always looking down on others' obsession with soulmates and marriage and picket fences with a mix of incredulity and contempt.

And then she happened.

Falling for her was the stupidest thing he had ever done; the worst decision he'd never had a choice in making. He was fire and she was gasoline, and when the truth came out, they would both burn for what he had done.

Of all the things that he hated himself for, hurting her— taking Peter from her, lying to her— was at the top, but even so, he still couldn't bring himself to regret being with her. And if tonight was one of the last nights he had left with her, then at least he got to have this moment, this closeness that he had never— and would never— share with anyone but her.

Eventually, he felt her shift against him, saw her lean forward to set her wine down on the coffee table before glancing back at him, her eyebrows lifting slightly in question. He passed her his glass in silent answer, watching as she placed it beside hers before cuddling against him once more, a sense of bemused exasperation in her voice as she broke the silence, telling him that the minidome had not been found.

As she vented about its disappearance, her words were mostly lost on him, his mind still occupied with his previous thoughts. But when she reached for his hand— her voice becoming softer, almost shy— he pulled his focus back to her, his fingers closing around hers as he turned to look down at her.

"You want to tell me about your day?" she asked softly, the innocence and genuine caring in the question making him hurt.

Drawing a slow breath, he curled his fingers more tightly around hers, his voice quiet.

"Nah, it can wait 'til morning."

Her gaze lifted from their joined hands to search his face, a tiny smile curling the corners of her lips.

"Is that right?" she asked, her tone so sweet and playful that he couldn't help his small answering smile, despite the turmoil that still churned within him. Smirking, Julia arched an eyebrow at him, adding, "Well do you want to take me to bed?"

For a moment, he let himself forget about everything that had happened today— about Max, her ultimatum, and the devastation that was to come— and allowed himself these few brief seconds of contentment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as she leaned in, a smile still on her lips as she pressed them to his.

He had to end the kiss far sooner than he wanted to, his lips pressing a brief, gentle kiss to the tip of her nose in silent apology for what he was about to do.

Then, looking away, he squeezed her hand gently, holding it close to his chest.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna stay up for a while."

"Yeah?" she asked quietly, concern seeping into her tone as she looked at him with troubled eyes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," he said, fighting to keep his voice casual, unaffected, his forced smile feeling more like a grimace. "I'm fine."

He could see the questions that lingered behind her eyes, but she said nothing, her tiny, silent nod making him hate himself. When she pulled away from him, heading for the stairs without looking back, he felt the ache in his chest intensify, his body suddenly cold without her warmth beside him.

The next hour was painfully slow, a punishment of his own infliction, his body and mind both on edge as he willed the minutes to pass.

Seeking distractions, he washed and dried both glasses, checked all the locks on the doors and windows, and turned off all lights but for one lamp beside the couch, then spent much of the remaining time pacing the width of the lounge room, repeatedly checking his watch. An hour was all he could stand to wait, desperate to have her in his arms once more— and surely by then she'd be asleep, and he could be with her without facing questions he couldn't answer or touches he couldn't bring himself to return.

When his watch finally ticked over, he was already halfway up the stairs, his footsteps silent as he moved into their bedroom.

His eyes were drawn to her straight away; facing away from him, she breathed slowly and evenly, her soft curls fanned out across the pillow, making him long to touch. Sighing softly, he stripped down to just his briefs and then eased into his side of the bed, his movements cautious as he inched closer to her, his arm gently curling around her.

His breath caught somewhere in his throat as her hand covered his, her sleepy form shifting to press flush against him, fitting perfectly into the curve of his body. Exhaling slowly, he drew his arm a little more tightly around her, feeling her hand squeeze his gently before she settled once more— and within moments, her breathing had evened out again, her body sinking back into sleep.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of her hair, enjoyed the softness and warmth of her body against his, committing every last detail to memory— appreciating it while he still could.

After tonight, he may never get to hold her again.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading, and naturally reviews are more than welcome :) <em>


	12. Move (1x13)

**30DWC #9: Move**

* * *

><p>Her shoulder was on fire.<p>

Every step she took sent a fresh stab of white-hot pain through her wounds, her teeth gritting against the searing ache as she forced herself to ignore it, to keep focused and keep moving.

Angie's presence at her side was a relief; her support— both physical and emotional— keeping her going when she might otherwise have faltered, overcome by the strain on her weakened body and battered heart.

Running on adrenaline and determination, they pressed forward together, each step through the darkness bringing them closer to the police station— and to Barbie.

She hadn't needed Angie to tell her it had been him who had saved her life; she'd known it from the moment she'd woken, even before she'd seen the surgical wound in her side, felt the tiny pull of the neat stitches that held her together. She'd been gone, and yet he'd fought, had brought her back— each new beat of her heart just another that she owed to him.

He'd saved her when no one else could have, and then just hours later he had saved her again, risking everything to get her to safety, giving up his freedom— his _life_— in exchange for hers.

She couldn't— _wouldn't_— let them hurt him, wouldn't let them take him away from her— now, or ever.

She needed him— _loved_ him, though it had taken learning the truth about Peter before she'd truly realised it, her feelings toward Barbie remaining as strong as ever even as the grief and pain had buried itself in her chest. After what he'd done, she should have hated him, blamed him, never wanted to see him again; but instead, she'd only wanted to hold him, to draw him close and let his tenderness and warmth ease her heartache while she soothed his own.

After everything they had been through, she knew she couldn't lose him now.

They were almost to the police station when she realised the pain in her shoulder had lessened, her posture straighter, her breathing easier. When they sneaked into the silent building just a couple of minutes later, the pain she'd felt continued to fade, almost as if something was helping her, encouraging her, supporting her in her mission.

Rather than questioning it, she simply increased her pace, following Angie's gesture towards the cells while the younger woman turned the opposite way, hurrying off in search of the keys.

Moving quickly along the empty corridor, she felt her heart pounding faster, her throat tight as she prayed for him to be there, to be okay. Reaching the doorway, she flicked on the light, her breath catching in her chest as she stepped into the open space, seeing him staring back at her from the opposite side of the cell bars, whole and unharmed.

Relief flowed through her veins like a healing drug, her feet instantly carrying her forward, her hand grasping the bar for support as she lifted her eyes to his.

"My god," he breathed, recovering from his momentary shock, his eyes travelling over her with a sense of stunned awe. "How are you even standing?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, her eyes never straying from his face, her voice soft and full of feeling. "But something out there really wanted me back on my feet."

She saw the multitude of emotions that shifted behind his eyes, the hint of desperation and uncertainty in his stance as he tentatively lowered his head, driven by the same need that she felt. Rising on her toes, she met him halfway, the bars that separated them seeming to vanish as she felt the gentle press of his lips against hers, a dozen different emotions— love, relief, gratitude— flowing between them, the quiet intensity of the kiss proving they'd both almost believed they'd never see each other again.

When Angie came dashing around the corner, keys in hand and impatience in her voice, Julia and Barbie reluctantly pulled back, parting only so Angie could unlock the cell, removing the last barrier that lay between them.

As Barbie stepped free, his eyes immediately found hers once more, and instantly she felt her fears begin to fade away, a small flicker of hope and determination rising in her chest.

Stepping closer, she lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling him press his face gently into her palm as he held her gaze, a moment of silent communication passing between them— not only a belief, but a promise, and one they would both go to any lengths to keep.

_We're gonna be okay._

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading<em>


	13. Look (2x02)

**30DWC #17: Look**

_For the Guest reviewer who requested the bed scene from 2x02.  
><em>_Re the request for the 2x05 Jarbie make-up: chapter 7 (Flames) covers the part behind the firehouse (mostly), and there's another fic in the works for the diner scene :)_

* * *

><p>When he woke, it was to her lips upon his skin, a trail of tiny, tender kisses traveling up from his chest to his shoulder.<p>

His response was immediate, his arms tightening reflexively around her before his eyes even fully opened, unconsciously drawing her closer against him. Then, feeling warm and relaxed and completely content— last night had been the most restful sleep he'd had in days, despite the two of them not _actually_ sleeping until sometime in the early hours of the morning— he let out a long, slow breath before rolling his head to look down at her, the scent of her hair already filling his nose.

As his eyes fell to hers, he found her grinning up at him, looking happy and sleep-touseled and so unbelievably beautiful that he moved without thought, his fingers rising to touch her face, stroking lightly against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a tiny, pleased hum vibrating in her throat, and when she opened them again they immediately linked with his once more, her gaze shining with warmth and tenderness and a simple, carefree joy that took his breath away. Watching her, was impossible not to share in her happiness, that same warmth filling his chest as he slowly leaned down to press his smiling lips to hers.

"I— missed— this," he murmured after a moment, each word punctuated by small, playful kisses to her chin, her cheek, her neck; his own grin widening as each new kiss drew another joyful laugh from her, a rich, delighted sound.

The kind of sound he would happily listen to for the rest of his life.

As he began to draw back, settling once more against the pillows, she automatically followed him, snuggling closer to touch her forehead to his.

"Me too," she agreed, her fingers tangling with his as the two of them simply breathed together, barely an inch separating their lips. Then, a playful note crept into her voice, her mouth curving in a poorly-hidden smile. "Almost as much as I'm gonna miss coffee."

He nearly laughed aloud in surprise, catching himself only at the last moment, his arms tightening around her as he played along.

"Mm, _really_?" he challenged mischievously, suppressing his own grin as he easily flipped them both, his mouth moving across her jaw and neck, this time teasing her with hot, deliberate kisses while she dissolved into breathless laughter, squirming futilely against him before wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him closer.

Considering his point sufficiently made, he loosened his grip and rolled over onto his back once more, grinning like an idiot as she immediately nestled closer, his hands automatically reaching down to draw the sheet up around her shoulders, keeping her warm.

She didn't settle completely back against him, however; instead, she propped herself up to look down at him, the laughter in her eyes fading into something quieter, more serious, the previous warmth and tenderness returning until she seemed to glow with it.

"Seriously, Mr Barbara," she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. "If you think I'm getting by under this thing without you…"

She let her words trail off, her unspoken message loud in his ears. It was something they hadn't really talked about yet— his unheard 'I love you' obviously not entering into the equation— but he knew without a doubt that she meant what she said, knew that she needed him as much as he needed her. Staring up at her, he felt the three words hovering once again on his tongue, but he made himself hold them back. He didn't want to push it, didn't want to move too fast— everything had already happened fast enough as it was, and he didn't want to threaten what they had by making it into something they might not be ready for.

So he said nothing, instead simply closed his eyes and drew her back against him, feeling her fingers stroke lightly against his neck for a moment before she lowered her forehead to rest once more against his, a tiny sigh of contentment escaping her lips.

Stroking a hand across the soft skin of her back, he drew a slow breath, shadows flitting across the backs of his eyelids as his heartbeat settled into a new rhythm, beating in time with hers.

Since the dome had come down, everyone trapped beneath it had had to find a way to deal with it, to keep them going. She had been his since day one; and now, he knew he was hers— knew that whatever happened, they would get each other through this, would face the dome and all its challenges together.

And, maybe one day— when it finally came down, when they could finally be free— they would face the rest of the world together as well.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>


	14. Silver (1x13)

**30DWC #10: Silver**

* * *

><p>It was amazing that something so small could seem so heavy.<p>

Nestled in her palm, the dogtags looked innocuous, almost ordinary; but to her, they were so much more, as if she was carrying the weight of her entire world in her hand.

Under the eerie glow of the blackened dome, they shone a dull silver, the tiny, stamped letters only just legible, and she wasn't sure if any object had ever held more meaning to her than these small, battered squares of metal. The tags hadn't just _belonged _to Barbie— they were a part of him, of his very identity, a physical reminder of who he was and what he had been through, a symbol of his survival against all odds.

The dime-sized, rounded indentation in the metal was proof enough of that; a permanent mark left by a bullet intended for his heart, a tangible measure of just how close he had come to death. For years, he'd lived in near-constant danger, had endured some of the harshest conditions imaginable— and yet he'd survived through it all, finally free to have the chance at a normal, peaceful life.

A chance the dome had taken from him, trapping him in a giant cage among hundreds of frightened, desperate strangers who were all searching for somebody to blame.

But that alone had not been his downfall.

Standing there on the gently-rocking boat with the darkness of the dome surrounding her, Julia had to face the truth; the greatest danger to Barbie's life had not been the dome, or the residents of Chester's Mill, or even Big Jim.

It was her.

Time and time again, he'd protected her, had risked everything to save her life.

And in return, she had cost him his.

Blinking through her tears, she read his name one last time, then closed her fingers tightly around the dogtags, lifting her hand to press them against her chest, directly above her heart.

When she finally let the egg slip from her trembling fingers, it was with a single thought in her mind, a desperate prayer that she could only hope the dome would hear.

_Save him._

For several long, agonizing moments, her only answer was silence.

And then— stars.

As they slowly rose toward the dome, blurred pink lines shining in her tear-filled eyes, Julia made a silent promise, not only to herself, but to Barbie.

He had given up his life for her; and now, she would live hers for him.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading :)<em>


	15. Knowledge (1x05)

**30DWC #12: Knowledge**

* * *

><p>She was alone.<p>

All around her, the people of Chester's Mill huddled together, scattered throughout the factory in small, quiet groups. Everywhere she looked, people were turning to one another; families embraced, neighbours and friends traded supportive gestures and hopeful words, clasping hands or shoulders. Everyone had someone to comfort, and someone to comfort them.

Except her.

She was an outsider in Chester's Mill, the six months she'd spent here meaning about as much as six seconds. Peter had always been her only true link to the town, but he was well and truly gone, the knowledge of his abandonment still weighing heavily in her chest like a jagged stone— but she'd accepted it, come to terms with it, had made her peace and said her goodbyes. She might not have anyone to face the end with, but at least now she could face it with her head high.

Playing absently with the edge of her cup, she wondered vaguely whether Barbie felt that way— from what he'd told her, he had more than his share of demons, had no shortage of dark memories in his past. She wondered whether he had made his own peace with the idea of his death, whether perhaps the guilt and shame he so clearly carried made the notion easier to bear, as if he thought he was only getting what he deserved. From what he'd admitted to her earlier— a confession that she got the feeling he'd never before shared with anyone— she suspected that he was more ready to die than he should be, as if his life was a debt he had to pay for all that he had done.

Everything she had learned about him in those brief minutes had just drawn her in all the more; the inexplicable pull she'd felt toward him from the first moment they'd met only strengthening over the past days, even the revelation of his link to Peter— and the lies he'd told her to conceal it— doing little to lessen the connection she felt.

And, above it all— he had saved her life.

It was only once she'd gotten home— the house feeling empty and silent— that her anger had begun to fade, and she'd been able to truly consider what he had done, her fury toward him slowly shifting into a mixture of awe and gratitude and something else she hadn't been quite ready to face just yet.

In the end, she had spent half the night thinking about him— and now it seemed he would occupy her thoughts for the rest of what little time she had left.

Sighing into her cup of god-awful wine— trust her asshole ex-boss to make her last minutes on Earth as much hell as the eight months she'd endured working for him— Julia downed the last of it, then reached again for the bottle, determined to go to the grave at least somewhat inebriated, terrible wine or not.

Her fingers had barely closed around the cool glass when she suddenly paused and instinctively looked up, her heart stuttering slightly as she saw Barbie approaching, his body language almost tentative, as if he wasn't sure of his welcome.

Feeling a spark of warmth light in her chest, she watched him draw closer, a small smile curling the corner of her mouth as she reconsidered her earlier thought.

Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.

"Last call?" she said wryly, pouring a fresh cupful as he joined her on the wooden pallet, his eyes lowering to his watch.

Already knowing what it showed him— their lives reduced to scarcely a dozen remaining minutes— she simply set the bottle aside and turned back to him, lifting an eyebrow just a fraction.

"An editor gave it to me after my first byline," she explained, sucking a stray droplet from her thumb before offering the cup to him. "Been looking for a good excuse to drink it ever since."

His fingers brushed against hers as he accepted it from her, sending tiny bolts of electricity skittering across her skin, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and take his free hand, to see if the feeling repeated with every touch. Instead, she kept her hands to herself, watching as he sniffed the wine, then lifted his gaze to hers, eyebrows raised.

"Was it worth the wait?"

"It's horrible," she stated dryly, making him grin. As he braved a sip, she shook her head, releasing a tiny sigh. "My bosses always hate me."

For a moment, they were silent; then, drawing in a breath, she made her own small confession. "You know, I still miss Chicago."

Turning her head, she caught Barbie's gaze, her voice level, none of her earlier pain left to taint her words. "Peter always said I'd grow to love this place. So where do you think he is now? Some flophouse in Vegas?"

"Julia…" he drawled, the small shake of his head cautioning her not to let herself go down that path. She already knew he was right, of course; had already realised after the events of this morning that letting go was the only way to keep both her sanity and her self-respect. Dropping her gaze, she let out a breath, her shoulders lifting in a tiny, resigned shrug.

"I made my peace with it. And besides, maybe he was right," she murmured, her eyes travelling around the crowded factory, seeing the faces of an entire town that had pulled together under impossible circumstances. "You know, I didn't understand this place before the dome came down, but after all that we've been through, I'm glad I got to be a part of it."

Reaching over to reclaim the cup, she let her gaze rest on his face, her mind adding the words she wouldn't say out loud.

_I'm glad I got to meet you._

Because she was. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met, and he drew her in a way she'd never experienced before, a way that should alarm her far more than it did. He was a mystery that still remained far from solved, an enigmatic stranger who had done more for the town in the few short days he'd been trapped here than most of its lifelong residents would ever do.

Of course, he'd made it clear that he was no hero— had implied he was closer to the opposite— but she was beginning to believe otherwise, the unmistakable proof currently standing all around her, right there in the faces of every person who was only still here because of what he had done for them.

When his voice interrupted her assessment a moment later, his tone was quiet, grave. "Julia, there's something that you need to hear—"

Shaking her head, she cut him off. She didn't need or want his apologies; had let go of her misplaced blame toward him just hours after she'd first felt it.

"You don't have to say anything."

"No, you don't understand—"

At that moment, sudden shouts echoed through the factory, desperate cries for help cutting short whatever he'd been about to say. Both twisting reflexively towards the sound, they saw two women searching frantically through the crowd, their voices raised in panic. Recognising them as the doctor and her partner— the other out-of-towners— Julia hurriedly rose from her seat to join them, her concern growing with every passing moment.

She hadn't noticed Barbie follow her from their seat, but when she turned away from the women and the uncooperative deputies a minute later— already determined to follow her plan— he was right there, his eyes watchful, his stance ready, just as she should have known he would be.

Ignoring the strangle swirl of emotions that rose in her chest, she focused again on her task, her stride quick and purposeful as she moved past him— only to be halted by his gentle grip around her arm, tiny bolts of lightning exploding across her skin.

"Hey, hold up," he said quietly, his body distractingly close to hers as their eyes met and held, her breath freezing somewhere in the depths of her chest. "Where are you going?"

She wouldn't— couldn't— let him stop her. Keeping her voice low, she spoke quickly, her words firm. "I followed Junior down here a few days ago, we found another way out. We've got to find those kids."

Then, before she could lose her nerve, she carefully slipped from his hold, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin as she hurried away.

Barely more than a few moments later, she heard him catch up, a rush of gratitude and warmth in her veins as she glanced over at him through the dim light of the tunnel. His presence was really no surprise; she may not know everything about him, but somehow she knew that when she needed him, he would be there.

She didn't know if they would make it, if they would find the kids and get them to safety, if any of them would survive what was to come.

But with the reassuring sound of Barbie's footsteps beside her, there was one thing that she _did_know.

She was no longer alone.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading<em>


	16. Prepared (1x05)

**30DWC #11: Prepared**

Companion piece to Knowledge.

* * *

><p>He knew what was about to happen.<p>

The moment she turned away from the scene before them, he could see the strength of her resolve, the already-familiar look of determination in her eyes telling him exactly what was coming next.

Once again, she was about to run right into the path of danger, too set in her mission to even spare a thought for her own safety.

And once again, he was going to follow her.

"Hey, hold up," he said, catching her arm as she began to brush past him, the movement bringing them close together, her face just inches from his as their eyes met and held. Keeping his voice low, he searched her gaze, asking the question he already suspected the answer to. "Where are you going?"

Her voice equally quiet, she spoke quickly, firmly, her eyes challenging him to try to stop her. "I followed Junior down here a few days ago, we found another way out. We've got to find those kids."

Then, without waiting for a response, she slipped from his hold, swiftly moving away from him. With a last glance around at the crowd— at the distracted deputies who still argued with the desperate mothers, at the dozens of milling residents who he'd prepared as best he could for what was about to come— he drew a breath, then turned and went after her, just as he'd always known he would.

When he caught up with her a moment later, jogging silently beside her through the darkened tunnels, she shot him a brief glance, her eyes unsurprised, yet seeming grateful all the same. Knowing he'd never convince her to reconsider— to stay in whatever small measure of safety that the factory provided, to _not_ put herself directly in the path of a missile strike— he simply gave her a silent nod, then fell in a half-step behind her, matching his pace to hers.

They said nothing as they climbed free of the tunnels and headed for her car; instead, they simply both focused on their task, eyes constantly scanning the area around them as they drove, each occupied by their own thoughts.

As they neared the middle of town, however— the teens still nowhere in sight— Julia finally broke the silence, her voice soft.

"Thank you."

His eyes still carefully searching their surroundings, Barbie let out a breath. "For what?"

"Coming with me," she said quietly, a sincerity and feeling to her voice that had his fingers curling into a fist against his knee, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "You didn't have to do that."

Unable to keep his eyes away any longer, he looked over at her, no longer holding anything back as he answered softly, "Yeah, I did."

At his words, her eyes flicked to his, a swirl of emotions shifting behind her searching gaze. After a moment, she simply gave a silent nod, her eyes shifting back to the road, her knuckles tightening almost imperceptibly on the wheel as she drove on.

Turning back to stare out the window once more, he released a silent breath, the weight of what was coming slowly sinking deeper in his chest. He'd been expecting it, readying himself for it; after all, he'd known from the moment he'd followed her from the tunnels that it was a lost cause, that they could never make it back in time to shelter from the impact.

And he'd gone anyway.

He'd gone because he knew he'd rather die out here beside her than cower underground among strangers, grasping at the tiniest chance for a survival that would mean nothing without the only person in this town he actually cared about.

Most of all, though, there was just no way in hell he would ever let her face this thing alone.

As they continued their search, he could actually feel the moment when she began to give up hope; when she finally began to face the idea that they had failed, that there was no going back now. With barely a minute remaining, she eased the car to a stop, silence surrounding them as she cut the engine, her head dropping in defeat. Watching her, he saw her draw in a shuddering breath, then slowly lift her head once more, her face set as she stared out at the sky above them, her hands tight on the wheel.

As the clock ticked over and the faint trail of smoke appeared in the distance, she turned to him, her hands lowering limply into her lap, her eyes wide and helpless as her gaze locked with his.

"Barbie—" was all she said, a plea and an apology both, a dozen emotions contained within the sound of his name, lodging like splinters into his heart.

Ignoring the sense of desolation that burned in his chest, he moved quickly, reaching over and hurriedly unclipping her seatbelt, his voice insistent as he tugged her toward him. "Get down. Arms around your head. Now."

A tiny sob escaped her throat, but she obeyed, and he swiftly freed himself of his own belt, sparing a fleeting glance out the windshield— seeing the missile looming larger and larger over their heads— before quickly shifting in his seat, clenching his fingers in the back of her shirt as he braced his upper body over hers, desperately providing the only protection he could.

Barely half a second later, he felt the impact, the dome erupting in a roar of violent thunder as the ground shook beneath them. Pressing closer against Julia, he clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the wave of heat that would follow, wiping them— and the entire town— from existence.

But it didn't come.

Drawing in a slow breath— the soft scent of Julia's hair filling his nose, the memory of which would surely torment him later— he slowly lifted his head, blinking against the sunshine.

A dark starburst of smoke hung in the sky, its shadowy tendrils still extending outward as he straightened in his seat, barely noticing as Julia silently did the same beside him, her expression awestruck.

Leaning forward in her seat, she searched the sky with wide eyes, her voice barely more than a whisper as she asked the question they were both thinking.

"Is it… gone?"

His eyebrows drawing together in a pensive frown, Barbie shook his head slightly, his words quiet. "I don't know."

Then, he drew in a slow breath, his eyes serious as he glanced over at her. "But there's one way to find out."

With a small nod, she started the car, maneuvering swiftly through the deserted streets to the nearest border of the dome, neither of them daring to speak the hopes that echoed loudly in the silence. As they neared the roadblock, they could see the destruction that lay ahead, their eyes meeting in a brief, expressive glance as the expanse of blackened landscape unfolded before them.

Climbing from the car, they slowly ventured forward together, eyes fixed on the smoking ruins beyond the dome line. Focused only on the dome, Barbie felt more than saw Julia pause, hanging back and watching silently as he crossed the final few yards to the dome's edge, his entire body fraught with tension.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he lifted a trembling hand, slowly reaching out—

—only for his palm to press against the solid surface of the dome, the familiar sense of energy vibrating against his skin.

Clenching his jaw, Barbie exhaled slowly, rage and despair coursing through his veins like acid. Fighting the surge of emotion that threatened to break free of his control, he curled his fingers into a fist, his knuckles pressing hard against the dome as if he could bring it down by willpower alone.

Then, he let his hand fall, his head lowering in defeat as he accepted the truth.

He was never going to leave Chester's Mill.

A moment later, he felt Julia join him, her shoulder brushing his as she stood close by his side, some of the tension within him easing a little with her presence.

The touch of her fingers against his palm was gentle, almost tentative, her hand slipping shyly into his— either requiring comfort or offering it, or perhaps both— and he closed his fingers around hers, her grip serving as an anchor, keeping him grounded.

They were further from freedom than they had ever been; but for now, at least, they were alive and safe— and together, ready to support each other through whatever came next.

Just minutes ago, he'd been ready to die by her side.

Now, with her by his, he was ready to live.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading!<em>


End file.
